My parents' house burned down a little over two years ago. The original plan was fairly extravagant and changed into something half it's original size by the time they had finished. All the walls were up, the roof was on and all that was left to be done was the staircase when it mysteriously went up in flames. With all the new wood, fresh paint and coats of sealer it burned to the ground in about an hour, despite the fact that it was snowing that night. To put it simply, it was sad, but no one was really heartbroken. It sucked that they were only 2 weeks away from moving into it, but other than that it was just an empty shell and something that caused headaches for the last 2 to 3 years. It was just a plan that didn't work out.
Six months later they started to rebuild. And the task of rebuilding turned out to be a joy. An unexpected blessing of sorts. They were able to build an even bigger house for almost half the cost. And now they are once again talking about how excited they are to move into this house–an even better house, a house that they love not loathe–and make it a home. And I can't help but notice how something that seemed horrific and overwhelming has turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to them. Their plans were squashed, but remolded into something more beautiful. Thinking about this gives me hope.
I've always been fascinated with the Italian lifestyle. How great would it be to live life like an Italian? I've started reading Eat, Pray, Love for the second time. I loved it the first time around. And am falling in love with this book all over again. Maybe it's because I, too, am in transition and so I can relate to almost every word on those pages. Either way, my favorite part of the book has always been the first few chapters where Elizabeth Gilbert spends four months in Rome. And it's there that she learns how to live life like it was meant to be lived–a goal I've always had, but never truly reached. My attempts at living in the here and now and enjoying life's pleasures is still an on-going process, but I can't help but wonder if I could get a better handle on this if I were living in Italy...
Slowing down, but losing patience. I've slowed down. A lot. I'm wondering when the shock and anomaly of this will be over. And in the meantime, I'm losing patience with how slow my life seems to be going. Sure, I'm still traveling around the globe (or at least the state for now) like a wild woman hoping that all this recent change will finally make its point. And as of late, my time seems to be used up, but I feel like I have almost nothing to show for it. I've always made a point before to never say this, because I think it sounds like whining. And whining is something that I have little tolerance for. But I'm breaking my rule today: I hate waiting.
If whining could be summed up in one quick movement I think it would look like this. So ridiculous.
Ever get the feeling that God is working just as hard and just as fast behind the scenes? Like He's the wizard behind the curtain, spinning wheels and pushing buttons? And that someday in the not-to-distant future the question of why all this waiting and being in limbo will be answered?
Which leads me to my last and most current thought: To travel or not to travel? I'm kind of tired of living out of my car. The suitcase part is ok, but the car.....I think it's just as sick of me as I am of it! I'm finding myself adjusting the seat every time I get in it. It's become uncomfortable. Every time I start the engine and put the car in drive I just want to pull over and go on a 3 mile run. It's the same thought I have when a movie finishes and the lights go on: my knees ache and my legs hurt from sitting this long.
I've been pretty good about passing up traveling offers from other people and just sticking to my own plans. But a good friend of mine just sent me an email yesterday begging me to do a girls trip, just the two of us. Part of me wants nothing more than to hit the road with this chick! Every time I think about traveling with her I picture us in a convertible with our hands in the air, screaming down a long stretch of open road. The other part of me wants to tell her that I'll do it with her another time. Although, I know that at this point in the game "another time" is so far away that we'd likely be road tripping for someone's 50th birthday. And while I sort of cringed when I hit the road for SB last week it was a good trip. There was so much good that came out of my discomfort that I can't help but wonder if a trip with her would be just as great.
If you want to go on the trip, do it now. You're probably right that if it doesn't happen now, it won't for 20 years. Even though traveling, and packing, and living out of a suitcase kind of sucks sometimes, have you taken a trip that you've regretted?
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